


Without Me

by The Tinglenator (Misha_McCarthy)



Series: Supernatural One-Shots [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Arguing, Brotherly Angst, Character Study, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Demon Dean Winchester, Drabble, Gen, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, One Shot, POV Male Character, POV Sam Winchester, POV Third Person Limited, Prankster Dean Winchester, Short One Shot, Worried Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misha_McCarthy/pseuds/The%20Tinglenator
Summary: Instead of leaving to go frolic with Crowley, demon Dean stays in the bunker to make the most out of the situation. Stupid pranks dissolve into vengeful acts, with Dean coming to learn that if it wasn't for the love of his sibling, he'd very much like to rip Sam's throat out. One-shot AU for 10x01.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural One-Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877215
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Without Me

Sam had been so sure that he left Dean on his bed in the bunker. Apparently, grabbing another beer was time enough for a body to become lost.  
He refused to say a dead body. They would always make something work. Right now, he just needed some liquor to figure that part out. It seemed that at this point with Dean missing, either the problem had fixed itself or something was incredibly wrong. And since when do things ever go well for the Winchesters?  
With a beer in one hand, he’d nudged the door open only to see a deserted bed and otherwise untouched room. When Sam looked back out into the hallway, Dean was leaned against the wall a few feet away. His mouth opened despite the fact that he had no words. Topping off the miracle, there was still blood from the mortal wound on Dean's shirt.  
"Change your mind about locking me up?" Dean asked casually, with a bit of smugness to his tone.  
"What?" Sam entered the hall in full, mouth still agape. Since when had Dean been locked up? If Dean was going to remember anything, you'd think it would be getting stabbed effortlessly by the Scribe of God, Metatron.  
"Are we going anytime soon? Might as well deal with this tablet-wielding ass as soon as possible," Dean said, as if that explained everything. He pushed himself off of the wall in eagerness.  
The younger of the brothers held his hand out as if saying 'hold on'. "Dean, you… you were… How the hell are you alive?"  
Dean's eyebrows came together. "Whaduya mean?"  
Sam rubbed a hand down his face, the beer bottle in his hand now completely forgotten. "What's the last thing you remember?"  
"Uhhh… You guys deciding I'm not good enough to fight 'cuz I attacked Gadreel. What, did you think I'm just going to let Kevin's murder go-?" Dean grunted as Sam embraced him, breathing hard to restrain any emotions after dealing with the loss of his older brother- again. "Dude, just… chill."  
Sam stood there a moment before backing off. There was no return of the gesture, no familiar reassurance. Maybe he'd overstepped some boundaries, but... Dean's first instincts always seem to be to comfort his little brother even when he had no idea what was going on. Of that, there was nothing. "I just… He killed you."  
"Huh. Well that's news to me."  
Sam nodded. "But now you're just…" he waved his hands vaguely. "And that's weird."  
"Why?" Not 'you didn't sell your soul, did you?' or 'don't tell me one of your stupid plans backfired'.  
"Well, I'm not sure how it happened. You really don't remember anything?"  
The elder brother shook his head. "Nope." Without any more explanation, he was headed towards the kitchen.

* * *

Dean was fine. Dean was drinking. Sam was not. Sam was pacing.  
The youngest of the two took it upon himself to recount every detail he could recall since he and Cas had walked in and found Dean to have escaped the bunker, via Crowley. Dean was content to simply sit back and watch Sam worry himself. "Aren't you wondering who brought you back to life?"  
Dean shrugged. "Do we have to look all gift horses in the mouth? Metatron is in some heavenly jail, the angel tablet is in pieces, and it sounds like Cas is just fine. I say this calls for a celebratory hunt."  
Sam finally dumped himself into a chair. "Not now, man. I need a day of sleep before I can even think of doing anything else."  
He got a nod. "Alright. I'll start looking."

OOO

Sam had a feeling that they shouldn't go looking for another hunt quite so soon. Although he couldn't refute the fact that there was really nothing to worry about in the meantime, and that an easy hunt might get them back into better spirits, they had just stopped yet another crisis and he didn't feel like getting into anything- even small- for a while. Yet, if it made Dean happy, Sam couldn't deny him much.  
Trouble first began the next morning. Dean had driven his Baby almost recklessly deep into the night, while briefing Sam on another regular vamp hunt or blasting music so loud Sam could feel the blood pounding in his head. Their motel room, which they had managed to trash within the first hour, soaked up the deep scent of morning brew. It ended up being a blessing, since it would either stink like coffee or stink like sweat. However, when Sam went to take a sip, his cup ended up being filled with chocolate milk.  
Big deal, he knew. It was just a harmless, childish prank. It occurred to him that Dean would have had to go out and grab chocolate milk so he could get the timing perfect for the prank. That meant waking up early- something he never did- and wasting money on something neither of them would drink. And after all that, Dean seemed only minimally amused by his expression.  
"Did you pour my drink out?" Sam demanded.  
He got a snigger from Dean, but not another goddamn coffee.

OOO

Sam was digging around in the trunk where they'd parked at the side of the road. The secret compartment fits a multitude of guns he used to grab with excitement, sometimes reverence. Today his arms just felt tired.  
"Crrrap." Dean grunted to himself. His eye was directed deep into a canteen of dead man's blood. They rarely used it, but it never hurt to have some. "I think I just dropped it in…"  
"What?" When Sam lifted his head up, he nearly hit his head on the top of the trunk. It was almost definitely lower than he'd last left it.  
"My knife." It looked like he was going to reach in, until he thought better of it. "Can you see where it is?"  
It didn't surprise the younger brother when he couldn't see through such thick blood. The container was shoved right into his face, and just as he was about to tell Dean to back up three paces, the canteen was being drawn back and sloshed straight into his face. "Auhff-!" Needless to say, it was vile shit. Blood usually tastes like iron, but this was clumpy, earthy… shit. Absolute shit. Sam wiped it away from his mouth as quickly as possible. "What the hell, Dean?"  
His brother was sporting a massive grin, even though he knew Sam could hardly see it past his dampened hair. It became even wider when he was witness to Sam throwing up in the bushes. "Imagine us injecting this stuff." He chuckled.  
His baby brother's long hair was a mess, and chunks of blood had made themselves at home all over. In usual Winchester fashion, the siblings stood at either side of the Impala and Sam spread his arms wide. "Seriously, Dean? What the fuck is wrong with you?"  
Dean magazine snapped into his gun. "Well, why'd you get your face so close to that thing? Ain't been fun around here lately, Sammy."  
Sam didn't know what that meant. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. "We still going in?"  
"Sure, why not?"  
Sam gave him the Bitchface of Disappointment and simply opened the passenger's door, which was the opposite way to the vampire's nest.  
"Drama queen," he heard from outside.

OOO

After Sam washed out his hair, the two decided they should grab some stuff from a convenience store and attack the nest tonight, while some vampires might be out.  
It was while Sam was making his way back to Dean.  
It had happened before, long ago, while the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse ran about and caused destruction. He'd seen, or at least thought he'd seen, demons from the reflective disc in the corner of the old fashioned store. From there, he'd been able to see his attackers coming and fight them off.  
Only this time, things were calmer. There were multiple people milling about. A few kids, even, trying to scoop some candy out of glass jars and avoid paying for them. The hair fanatic between the brothers had been looking for cheap medical supplies. You could never have enough bandages. Meanwhile, he had thought Dean would snag chips or something of the sort. It was, quite honestly, a foolish assumption. He hadn't seen Dean eat anything in the last while, and he only ever drank coffee when convenient. It turns out that his older brother must have been looking for Nair, since he was in the right spot when Sam noticed his reflection. There was a perfectly disastrous moment as Dean stepped through the aisle that his eyes shone black.  
Sam instantly knew it was no trick of the eye, and no wishful thinking. It all made sense- but then it didn't. How could a demon have gotten into the bunker in the first place? Why were they pretending to be Dean? What the hell could they possibly want? Was Dean kept alive by its power, or had he died hours before something happened?  
He knew one thing. Dean wasn't acting like Dean lately, and that could only mean something bad. So he stuck an angel blade to his brother's throat in the motel room.  
"Heey, Sammy. Getting tired of a few jokes?"  
"Who are you?" he asked, his eyes unflinching.  
"Same as always."  
"That's a lie." Sam clenched his fist around the blade tighter, but Dean twisted the knife out of his grasp and let the clattering echo ring out.  
He turned Sam's arm farther than normal and grabbed an oncoming fist. With no hands and no other options, Sam knelt so that the arm being rotated wasn’t strained as much. "Y'know, I thought about killing you for a few sleepless nights." Dean twisted the arm a bit more. "You really know how to get on my nerves." Another twist, and this time Sam grunted. Dean was practically about to break Sam's arm effortlessly and with a charming smile. "It's as if nothing I've ever done will be good enough for you."  
Sam couldn't help it, probably didn't even realize he was doing it. It was in his nature to give Dean the confused-puppy look.  
"I tried to keep the family together, I let you have your space. Both extremes were terrible of me. I died a couple times, made some deals, heeded what I thought were your final words. For that, I was selfish and untrustworthy. Then I lied to you. How awful! It ate up my pathetic human self on the inside, and all you did was complain about being stuck again saving people with me. Because I'm a 'self-serving ass'."  
_**CRACK.**_  
Dean had heard much worse screams. The fist of the other hand he gripped was slowly turned as well, even as Sam's broken arm fell limp at his side. "I'm done being some baby-sitter or an uncle with love-life advice. I'm done taking care of rodents who run at the first chance. I do all of this and yet you can't wait to get away from me, to prove me wrong, to become better than me." He blinked, revealing eyes of black pools, and crouched until he was in Sam's face. The younger of the two finished a murmured sentence. "Praying, huh? That's real cute." Dean let a fist slam into his brother's jaw. "If it wasn't for me, Cas would be Deployable Angel #7865. He's just as useless as you are, except he lies about everything he does and makes my job as savior that much more difficult."  
Castiel didn't take anything to heart, but merely restrained the enhanced strength that came with a demon’s power. The angel wasn't certain if the demon's points had any merit; Dean would claim the opposite of everything he said as soon as they purified him. Which they would- they had to. Cas knew it wasn't just hope. Sam had done it before, and would have been successful in purifying Crowley if he hadn't needed to stop. But Cas also knew it was hope that they could fully purify a demon. And doubt. And every other thing that came along with being human- of which Cas was only partly. He would much rather feel loss if it meant joy than feel nothing at all, and he knew that Dean would feel the same when things were settled.


End file.
